Nurin POV
Cappadocia—Hot air balloon
After three days of exploring the breathtaking beauty of this country, I could feel my energy fading. Exhaustion crept in, leaving me weaker with each step. Still, I couldn't let Hamze see the toll it was taking on me. I hadn’t anticipated how hard this would be, but giving up was not an option. I owed it to myself not to turn this journey into a punishment simply because I insisted on doing it alone.
We were now en route to Cappadocia—a captivating region nestled in Central Anatolia, Turkey. This area spans across several provinces, including Nevşehir, Kayseri, Aksaray, Kırşehir, Sivas, and Niğde. According to the ancient historian Herodotus, the Cappadocians once inhabited a vast territory stretching from Mount Taurus to the shores of the Euxine Sea during the Ionian Revolt. The region is framed by the Taurus Mountains to the south, Cilicia to the southeast, the upper Euphrates to the east, Pontus to the north, and Lycaonia and eastern Galatia to the west.
The name Cappadocia—long used in Christian historical texts—has endured as a symbol of rich cultural heritage and striking natural landscapes. Known around the world for its whimsical fairy chimneys and unique geology, the region continues to enchant travelers. I owe this wealth of information to my research, with Wikipedia being a faithful companion along the way.
I was filled with anticipation at the thought of reaching Cappadocia—not just to witness the iconic hot air balloons dotting the sky, but to actually ride one myself. It was something I had long dreamed of, a moment I believed could make me feel truly alive. I wanted this memory to anchor me, to remind me that I chose to live fully, rather than looking back someday with regret, wondering what might have been if I had let fear or fatigue hold me back.
We've visited so many incredible places here in Turkey, and while I've truly enjoyed every moment, there's still this odd sense of something missing—something I can't quite identify. It's like a faint echo in the back of my mind, a feeling just beyond reach.
That morning, we were on our way to the hot air balloon ride. As we approached, Hamze stepped in front of me and gently gestured for me to go first. I had dreamed of this moment for so long, and I was excited—but anxiety lingered, quietly shadowing my excitement. I couldn't help but think, what if something goes wrong? It’s a natural fear, I suppose, and I think Hamze sensed it. Without saying a word, he gave me a reassuring smile and climbed into the balloon first. Once inside, he reached out his hand toward me, nodding gently. So I followed.
A few minutes passed, and I could feel the balloon slowly ascending. The ground slipped away beneath us, and the landscape opened up like a painting. I looked around and saw other balloons rising into the sky. To our right, a couple laughed and leaned into each other, clearly savoring the moment. On our left, a woman leaned nervously on the shoulder of the man beside her—maybe she, too, was fighting off the same anxious flutter I had earlier.
Then something unexpected happened. Maybe it was the shift of the basket or just a misstep, but I found myself leaning against Hamze's chest. I pulled back instinctively, embarrassed, and as our eyes met, I froze. My face flushed with heat—I was sure I was turning red. He gave a small, awkward smile, as if unsure of what to say.
Then I heard his voice: “Do you want to go down? Are you uncomfortable? I’m sorry—this will take about 60 minutes  or more in the air.”
I shook my head and gave a soft smile. “No, it’s okay. I’m just overwhelmed, but I can manage. This is actually on my bucket list.”
I smiled again, this time to show him—and maybe even myself—that I really was okay.
AYAZ (HAMZE) POV
Cappadocia—Hot air balloon
If taking candid photos was a crime, then I’d be guilty beyond a doubt. I can’t help myself—she’s a rare kind of beauty, and letting these quiet moments slip by without capturing them just isn’t an option.
She was gazing up at the sky, completely lost in the moment. I could tell she was enjoying every second of it. But there was something deeper, something quietly unsettling. She loved this place—you could see it in her eyes, in her stillness—but she was crying.
It’s strange, really, how someone can be surrounded by beauty, feel joy, and still be hurting inside. But I get it. It’s hard to reach someone emotionally when they’re holding things in, especially someone you’ve only known for a week. I don’t blame her. Her emotions are valid. Whatever she’s feeling, it matters.
She turned to look at me and offered the most radiant smile. Then she said softly, “I guess heaven is more beautiful than what our naked eyes can see.”
I smiled back and replied, “This place is already beautiful—just because you’re here.”
Later, I know I’ll take her to my foundation. Maybe trying something new will help her discover a hidden talent or even just bring her a little more peace. Who knows? Sometimes a change of pace is all someone needs to start healing.